


swallow my soul

by selenedaydreams



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: F/F, Post Season 2, Seduction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-27
Updated: 2016-03-27
Packaged: 2018-05-29 08:53:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6368167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/selenedaydreams/pseuds/selenedaydreams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Because what?” She kisses the corner of Karen’s lips before leaning in to whisper in her ear. “Face it: you’re attracted to danger.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	swallow my soul

**Author's Note:**

> I leave how Elektra came back to life very vague because a) I'm not actually sure how it happens in the comics and b) I didn't think it was actually relevant to the plot of this fic.

There’s a bone deep exhausting that has made its home inside her heart and even though she blames it on the too many long nights and early mornings, the fact that she hasn’t stepped foot inside Josie’s in over a month is certainly to blame as well.

Even expensive whiskey has a bitter aftertaste when swallowed down alone, the fireflies outside the kitchen window as her only company.

Foggy calls sometimes, fronting the ‘I miss you’ line in order to hide his true intentions: checking up on her, probably to make sure she hasn’t broken into anyone else’s home. She has, actually, but that’s neither here nor there because those precious moments of exhilarating adrenaline are what reminds her that she’s alive.

(Sometimes, she thinks she understands why Matt does what he does.)

Unlike Foggy, who’s thriving at Hogarth, Chao and Benowitz, making more money than he would have ever imagined, rightfully so too, Matt has almost completely dropped off the grid.

She hears about him on the morning news, well, about Daredevil. She’s yet to figure out where one ends and the other begins or if by now they just merge seamlessly into each other.

She wants to think that she took that conversation in stride, asking only a couple of questions, maybe become of shock, or maybe because on some level she had always known.

Maybe danger just clung to her as if she were a stubborn magnet.

The woman in your apartment, she started to ask, it’s petty, laughably so, but she’s desperate to know: _were you cheating on me with her?_ Because she’s cursed his name more times than she’d like to admit and spent too many nights loathing his very soul, so much so that a part of her began to wonder if her life would have turned out better had he and Foggy not shown up to save her that faithful night.

At least in jail you get to keep your soul.

There’s tension in Matt’s jaw as soon as the first words fall from her lips and the harsh interruption of “She won’t bother you anymore.” leaves her cold and desperate for a change in subject.

He didn’t actually tell her much, only answered her questions, but there was a desperate sincerity to his tone that made her believe that if she would have asked him to take her to every single place the Devil had ever touched, he would have done it without a second thought. Atonement, she thought. Catholic guilt mixed with a strange kind of devotion.

Forgiveness isn’t immediate. He hasn’t earned it and Karen has seen too much, done too much, and stained her hands with too much blood to simply hand back her heart to a man who had crushed it in his reckless path for justice.

They build a few friendship out of posted notes. Some nights, Karen finds posted notes stuck to her door, tipping her to a new story (they’re neon pink, she wonders if he knows that). She never leaves a response but he hopes the articles she writes speak for themselves.

It’s midnight when she gets home that night. Disappointment mingles with the exhaustion when she finds no posted note, especially since she’s heard rumors of a slow building empire inside the prison with Fisk as usurped emperor but maybe Matt has grown tired of the man that almost ruined his life and Karen can’t think about Fisk without think of Wesley.

Without think of the gun hidden in the upstairs bedroom, too far out of reach because as soon as she steps inside her house, she spots a dark figure leaning back against the couch.

In retrospect, running out of the house and calling 911 would have been better than stepping further inside, fingers reaching into her back to clutch the pepper spray can hidden at the bottom.

“Prison empire under construction. Focus on Fisk.”

The woman comes into full view as Karen’s eyes adjust to the darkness and it takes her a moment to realize that she’s reading from a posted note. Gross invasion of privacy comes to mind, but she doubts those words have any meaning to her.

“If you’re looking for him, I don’t know where he is.”

She smiles, red lips stretching beautiful over her teeth, knocking the air out of Karen’s lungs once she pieces together who this woman is. It makes her wonder if making a break for her gun would even be worth it.

“Relax, you’re not in danger.” She says, putting the note down on the coffee table and propping her feet next to it as she leans further back into the plush couch. “I just want to talk.”

“So you broke into my house?”

There’s a dangerous edge to the way she’s smirking now. “Neither of us are saints in that regard.”

It’s an ironic twist of ‘people in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones’ but Karen had long ago forgone self-preservation. What’s another added sin? Everyone’s a hypocrite deep down inside.

“What do you want?”

“I already told you. I want to talk.”

“Why?” Frustration rings loud and clear in her tone, in the way her knuckles turn bone white as her fingers clench around the strap of her bag.

“I want you to know that Matthew wasn’t cheating you.”

She doesn’t want to have this conversation, she doesn’t want any of this so before she can stop herself, her purse drops to the floor before her feet carry her to the kitchen to find the sweet salvation of cheap vodka (Foggy’s brand).

She drinks straight from the bottle, one gulp, two gulps, three. She can feel a pair of eyes staring at her, making her feel vulnerable and cold in a way that only alcohol can warm her up. Except that there are fingers wrapping around the bottle and in the few seconds Karen had closed her eyes and enjoyed the soothing burn, she makes her way across the room to her and pulls the bottle away from her lips.

“You’re almost as self-destructive as he is.”

“You’re wrong.” Karen feels the desperate need to defend herself, to prove the woman before her wrong, as if doing so might make the lies she tells herself just a little more convincing.

“Am I?”

“If he wasn’t cheating me then why were you in his bed?” Her defenses come in many shades, mostly combative though, because there’s a warmth settling in her veins that loosens her tongue enough to fight back.

“Because I almost died and he saved my life.” Her fingers are still wrapped around the bottle of vodka, tightening marginally as she speaks. “He was holding my hand because he almost lost me.”

It hurts. There’s a knife twisting inside her heart that feels like pure guilt but there’s also anger burning her up because if that was all, then why hadn’t he just told her? Because she stormed out, that’s why, because she never actually gave him a chance to explain.

“Don’t blame yourself.” She consoles. “If I were you, I would have probably slapped him for lying to me.”

It doesn’t add up and then it does. “He loves you.”

The woman laughs, cold and sharp and for a moment, it looks as if she’s going to take a swing from the bottle to numb the wound Karen had just torn open. “He loves you too, you know.”

It’s Karen’s turn to laugh because hearing those words out loud sends shivers down her spine in a way that doesn’t quite allude to happiness but rather some twisted form of bitterness. “If he did, he would have told me the truth. He would have told me the truth from the beginning.”

“Look,” She starts, taking one step closer to Karen, invading her space. Despite the difference in height, she still seems to loom over Karen. “Matthew has this screwed up idea that he can protect people by pushing them away. I’m not saying he’s right, I’m just telling you that’s what he thinks.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because you deserve to know the truth.” This time, she does take a drink.

Karen laughs again because it suddenly occurs to her that, “I don’t even know your name.”

Her eyebrows quirk up at that. “Matthew hasn’t mentioned me by name? I’m offended.” She extends her hand towards Karen. “Elektra.”

Elektra has a strong grip but so does Karen, you don’t get very far in this business without learning to be assertive.

“You’re too good for him, you know.” Elektra comments, back turned as she rummages through Karen’s cabinets in search of shot glasses, finding two from a wedding she had attended three years ago and deeming them satisfactory as she sets them on the counter and pours a generous amount of vodka in them.

“You don’t even know me.”

“Are you so sure about that?” The same predatory smile as before stretches her lips and Karen is so caught up in it, she nods without meaning to. “You always thought you were going to have a normal life, probably had a boring job before this all started. People underestimated you, reduced you to just a blonde with a pretty face, wrote you off as the nice girl. But that’s just the beginning. You crave danger, crave the adrenaline rush, crave the way your heart feels like it’s going to burst out of your chest and you prove everyone wrong out of spite. Out of spite for all of those people that thought you weren’t strong enough.”

There are goosebumps on her arms and Karen feels like she’s shivering under Elektra’s piercing gaze. Her fingers find the shot glass, downing it in favor of responding, but even the burn of vodka isn’t enough to make her feel whole again.

“Matthew did it too,” She continues, “underestimated you, but you can handle yourself.”

It’s not a question but Karen finds herself nodding, finds herself gravitating towards her without actually moving.

“I…don’t know you what me to say.” Her fingers brush her hair behind her ears, a nervous tick she has yet to part with, but before she can do it again, there are fingers wrapping around her wrist, halting her hand in mid air.

“Embrace it.” Comes Elektra’s fierce response, followed by another more exhilarating grin. “Embrace your gift.”

“My gift?”

Elektra nods. “I’ve read your writing. You have a gift.”

“You’ve read my articles?” Karen sounds more shocked than she would have liked to admit. “Why?”

There’s a pause, long enough for Elektra to withdraw from Karen’s space and pour herself another hefty drink. “Let’s just say…I find you intriguing.”

“Intriguing?” Karen echoes, and she almost sweeps another strand of hair behind her ear before stopping herself and fidgeting with the shot glass instead.

“Are you going to make me spell it out?” Elektra asks, smirking around the rim of her own glass.

Karen catches her bottom lip between her teeth. “Yes.”

Elektra seems more than eager to oblige, setting the shot glass down and moving towards her once again, close enough that when she speaks, Karen can smell the faint tang of vodka on her breath. “Intriguing, captivating,” Her fingers move to brush up her arm. “Enthralling… _alluring_.”

Karen hears her own breath hitch and the rational part of her brain telling her to back away immediately, to push her away.

When Elektra kisses her though, Karen swears her heart stops. She definitely stops breathing because there are hands in her hair, tugging her closer, and Karen’s hands fall to her waist as if they were always meant to land there. Elektra kisses like she does everything else: full of passion and commitment and hard enough that Karen wants to drown in her lips.

The counter digs uncomfortably into her back as Elektra pushes her against it, taking control of the kiss once again and invading her mouth, chasing away the taste of vodka and making Karen wonder if any alcohol could rival the kind of drunk she feels right now.

Elektra is everywhere around her and inside her and for those precious moments, she is the only thing that Karen can think about and it feels like absolution. When they break apart, they stay presses together, Elektra’s hands move from Karen’s hair down her arms until they settle on her waist.

“You’re insane.” Karen breathes, although she’s not sure who she’s actually referring to.

“And yet you kissed me back.”

Karen shakes her head, trying to put some distance between them but Elektra tightens her grip on her in a way that scream possessive. “We can’t do this.”

“Why not?” Elektra sounds almost innocent as she speaks.

“ _Because_ –”

“Because what?” She kisses the corner of Karen’s lips before leaning in to whisper in her ear. “Face it: you’re attracted to danger.”

Karen wants to deny it, wants to tell her to leave and never come back but her hands are still comfortably settled on Elektra’s hips and she can’t bring herself to pull away.

“How about this?” Elektra says, and there’s a softness to her tone and the way she brushes Karen’s hair out of her forehead. “You go upstairs and shower and when you’re finished, I can show you what I’m really capable of.”

Karen shivers once again, although that may have something to do with the fact that Elektra’s hands have snuck up her back and smoothly unhooked her bra though the thin material of her dress. She’s powerless to refuse and if she’s honest, she doesn’t really want to, so she leans in to kiss her again, rough and sloppy and with too much tongue before whispering the word okay against her mouth.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on tumblr @mallcolmducasse.


End file.
